


Einsamerwolf

by templemarker



Category: Iskryne Series - Elizabeth Bear & Sarah Monette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-27 23:58:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templemarker/pseuds/templemarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the things Isolfr thought he might be as a wolfjarl, lonely was not one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Einsamerwolf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psocoptera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psocoptera/gifts).



Of all the things Isolfr thought he might be as a wolfjarl, lonely was not one of them. He had been quiet as a child, introspective as a young man, and now with the first years of his time with the werthreat behind him he knew enough of himself to realize that he craved some measure of solitude, some piece of time unto himself. It wasn't unusual--there was little privacy in a wolfheall, or even in a wolfless heall, and it occasionally caused no few scuffles between the wolfjarls during long winters with little hunting to do. Even the wolfless men and the women who worked the heall suffered for it.

But something in Isolfr demanded the limited privacy of his own rooms, separate even from Vethulf and Skjaldwulf --though never from Viradechtis. And yet, even she, his beloved koningenwolf, knew the shape of him well enough that she sought out nights with her mates, or surveyed in regal dominance the main room of the wolfheall, leaving him to his inner mind.

If he hadn't been so abjectly grateful, he would have protested. But as it was, those spare few nights where he was only himself, only Isolfr, were some saving grace.

He knew himself to be odd, odd for a wolfsprechend, prone to curiosity and drive and bone-deep belief. Most brothers to konigenwolves shared some outward openness, an innate kindness that Isolfr felt wholly lacking in himself. Hrolleif had been such a wolfsprechend. Where Hrolleif had laughter, Isolfr had contemplation. It had served his werthreat well, he thought, but it had not made him a natural wolfsprechend.

And yet... Something in him wondered if he should feel more desirous of the company of his wolfjarls. He enjoyed them--though not as much as they had they joy of each other, he thought--but apart from the times when they were brought together by their konigenwolf's heated demands, he was content with their kinship, and the work they shared of the wolfheall. Isolfr had the joy of Hjordis, for a time, though he didn't begrudge her the choices she made. He understood now that some time had passed what, exactly, they were to each other, and what fortune had brought that pleasure to him.

Isolfr's heart had never been moved, never _truly_ moved, but twice. First Viradechtis, her proud possession greater than any words could convey; and the first sight of Alfgyfa, his daughter, she who would be the joy of him for all his days. He thought of his father, for a moment, but--even in all the hurtful words and unchecked anger, Isolfr had never ceased to believe his father loved him. Was shamed by him, perhaps; was thoughtless and unkind, assuredly. But Isolfr believed, somewhere deep inside of him, that his father acted so because he cared. If it was misguided, so be it; he would believe the selfsame for his own child, the cherished prize of his coupling with Hjordis, and never falter in his faith and love of her.

Those two, and no others. Was he destined only for the occasional welcome interlude? Or was there someone out there in the world, a world that had grown so very great and wide in such a short span of time, that was his mate, like Viradechtis with her Mar and Kjaran, like Skjaldwulf and Vethulf?

Some part of him believed, believed fully, that he should have been moved more by the idea. But in truth it made him tired, made him grateful for his small room and the privacy his wolves and wolfjarls granted him. Who could bear to hold another's regard, when the weight of the werthreat, the wolfheall, the wolfmaegth, was such a present burden?

In his room, a room of his own, Viradechtis on the hunt with her wolf-mates and Isolfr bearing approving witness many miles away, Isolfr held court with his parchment and his own counsel, reviewing the records and notations of the Franangford Wolfheall. It was soothing, in its way, to review the numbers and the business that made life at Franangford possible. Through the bond of the werthreat, he could feel Viradechtis' savage grin, feel Mar and Kjaran and through them, Vethulf and Skjaldwulf, Kari and and Hrafn and Hroi and Kothran and more beyond. It was at once being a part of something and yet somehow separate, and Isolfr smiled slightly to himself as the thought crossed his mind and his konigenwolf, his Viradechtis, laughed at him in turn through the strength of their great bond.

 _Of course you are both apart and separate_ , she said in the thought-language of her kind. _You are Isolfr. You lead through action, not through diplomacy. You lead._

Isolfr paused. _We lead_ , he amended, and her dog-grin was her only reply.

So be it, then. He was not lonely, though by all rights he ought to be, no woman and his wolfjarls as taken with each other as a maid and a lad in springtime. He would be content with that which he had, with his werthreat and his wolfheall, and the possibility of a dalliance here and again as it suited him. Isolfr was no young blushing jarl to wait on another's pleasure. He had seen the depths of the trellwarrens; he had stood at the great yawning reach of the Iskryne and had not been cowed. He would move forward like he had in all things, and be _happy_ , happy as he seemed to be despite all provocations otherwise.

There was a soft knock at his door, and Isolfr looked up to find Frithulf's warm, familiar smile at his threshold.

"Ah, wolfsprechend," Frithfulf said, an edge of playful mockery in his tone, "you must come. We've gotten word that the hunting party has taken down a ten-pointer, and your presence is humbly requested to witness the butchering. Can you bear to be drawn from your books and papers?"

Isolfr laughed, a low, friendly chuckle. "They are such intriguing accounts," he allowed, "but I think I can bear to be separated from them for a time." He rose and on impulse, clasped Frithulf's forearm to his own. "I thank you for your care, brother. It does not go unnoticed."

Frithulf only looked at him, puzzled, but dutifully embraced him. "It is nothing, Isolfr," he said. "Only I thought you might not wish to miss the return of your werthreat's hunters."

Isolfr smiled. "I do not," he said. "Let's go."


End file.
